Emory

I was more than surprised when I found out I was expecting Emory! What was more surprising was that my daughter was the one who told me!

She rubbed and kissed my belly, saying, “Baby.” Anthony thought, “Maybe she saw that on TV somewhere.” I thought, “Nah! I’m taking a test tomorrow morning!” Lo and behold, Ávianna was right, and her belly rubs and kisses continued. I thought it was so cute, but inside, I was also petrified and discouraged – I couldn’t help but ask myself, “How could I do this?” Ávianna was still so young. I thought of how unfair it would be to her to share all the attention she was getting suddenly. I worried that she would feel pushed to the side. I wasn’t sure how I would manage to meet the needs of both children. I had just finished breastfeeding; did I want to start that again? Did I want to change two diapers? Ávi wasn’t even fully potty-trained yet!

I know this sounds somewhat selfish, but these thoughts and emotions were my real worries. I just didn’t think I could be a mommy of two – at least not yet. However, I soon realized that God wouldn’t give me anything I couldn’t handle and that He would prepare me for this new journey.

October 9th, 2019, my baby boy and first and only son, Anthony Emory, was born weighing 7 pounds and 5 ounces. I was excited about the mother-son bond we already had since he was in my womb. I was ready to teach him all that I knew. I was nervous, but I was prepared to see the life skills his father would teach him in this dangerous world. I just knew he would become a respectful, loving man because his father and I would do our best to raise him that way.

Emory was born healthy, was breastfed, had loving parents, a big sister, and a supportive family. Nothing was supposed to go wrong – or so I thought. On January 22nd, 2020, my dreams, goals, and visions for my son were snatched from me. On that day, my heart broke into a trillion pieces, and my world as I knew it flew upside down.

At almost four months old, Emory suddenly (I still can’t say the word) became our angel. It was the most devastating day of my life, and it was the saddest I’ve ever been. It was the most helpless and defeated I’ve ever felt. It was the most heartbroken I’ve ever been. And even today, I am still confused about how and why. I wondered, and still sometimes wonder, “Why me? Why us? What did I do to deserve this?”

When it first happened, I didn’t want to be here anymore. I said it, and I felt it. But when I looked in my baby girl’s eyes, I knew I had a baby here who needed me. Interestingly though, I realized I needed her more. She lifted me up when I was having a rough day, and she kissed my cheeks at the right time. I could be deep in thought with tears on the way, and she would catch me just in time. Ávi gave me the biggest and tightest hugs when I needed them the most. She even tried to hold me, laying my head on her shoulder. I didn’t need to cry. I didn’t need to be in bed. She just knew I needed her. She comforted me, and she still does until this day. Ávianna made me realize that there was still a sun through my storms, and I was still blessed.

A week or two after losing my baby boy, I found out I was pregnant. Yes, again. I carried another child while grieving, missing my son tremendously, and caring for my 2-year-old daughter. Many people would think of this as a blessing, but I thought it was a curse. I kept asking God, “Why did you take my son and give me another child? What was the point?” I didn’t feel lucky, and I didn’t feel blessed; I felt angry, sad, confused, and targeted.

At 11 weeks pregnant, about three months, I had a miscarriage. Sadly, at three months, it wasn’t just a heavy bleeding miscarriage; I felt it all. I felt it all pass through. I was distraught, and I was defeated once again. How could God take away my son and then give me another child, and take him and her away, too?

There’s no guidance or specific way to manage this type of pain. I’ll miss my son forever, and I’ll always wonder why I had a miscarriage at three months pregnant. But with God, family, and support, my family and I are still standing and slowly healing.

This space is primarily for mothers and fathers who have suffered from miscarriages, infant death, stillborn babies, and fertility issues. We have many questions, fears, and emotions. Some days, it’s hard to get up, and our hearts are exceptionally heavier than others. However, I’ve learned that one way to get up is to tell my story as it may help someone else.

I want to share my story and ongoing healing process with you in hopes that it makes a difference.